My dad is a good baker. His specialties are bread, jelly, and pizza dough. Dad is a retired High School biology teacher. His love and appreciation for the physical sciences comes through in his baking. A recent conversation with my wife about memorable school lunches got me thinking that I ate a lot of homemade bread. I don’t know if it was all the time, or just once in a while, but I did eat Dad’s made-from-scratch bread and occasionally some jelly. Another memorable lunch is when I brought left-over home-made pizza. I enjoy cold pizza to this day. Yet, the memory of a school lunch with Dad’s pizza reigns over any left-over pizza to this day. Dad taught Christi how to make his pizza dough, and, at the risk of offending my father, I like her dough the best. I guess that means dad is an even better teacher than baker.
Out of all of Dad’s baking accomplishments, none can be better than his Christmas stollen bread. Dad is not German, but somehow he figured out how to bake it. He found the right sweetness, a good blend of nuts and fruits, and the perfect texture. You can eat it thick-sliced toasted, thin sliced with salted butter, or just simply sliced. Once a year, our kitchen would turn into a stollen factory. The sweet smells of those days are with me today. Dad would bake the bread and then give it to friends and family. Once dad showed up to a Christmas choir practice without the bread and we were worried they’d go on strike until they got their Christmas bread. Once my brother got his driver’s license, we became the deliverers of many bread loafs. My favorite delivery was the year he bought a convertible. This was no ordinary convertible; it was a baby blue 1978 Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight. Although a two-door, it was longer than our VW bus. The gigantic 8 cylinder engine had so much torque, it could accelerate at the same speed with six friends in the car as it would with a solo driver. It came equipped with an 8-track player and a Neil Diamond cassette the previous owner left under the seat. Just before Christmas, my brother and I were given our lengthy stollen delivery list and we set out. It was a cold day, below freezing but dry (rare for Western Washington). We put on our heaviest winter coats and Santa hats, and took off into the frigid and sunny afternoon with the back seat of his car full of brightly wrapped loaves of bread. Convertibles in Washington State are rare. When it’s twenty degrees, and two teenagers wearing Santa hats with huge grins on their faces, and driving one of the biggest cars on the road with the top down, singing, “Forever in blue jeans,” people noticed. I can’t tell you how many people shouted, “Merry Christmas” to us as we drove along. As the day turned to night, we had made all our deliveries and found several loaves leftover in the back seat. Driving down the streets of Tacoma, we looked for people who needed Christmas cheer. And we did – pedestrians just minding their own business turned to hear the convertible (and Neil Diamond) approaching. I would jump out of the car, hand the stranger a loaf of bread, and say, “Merry Christmas.” The last person I handed a loaf to said, “Man, what are you guys, the two Kings riding in a convertible?” I nodded my head and we drove off singing, “I’m a Believer.” -Fr. Marshall This past week, a television special aired called, “The Secret Santa.” The show was a thinly veiled faux investigation report on searching for the real Santa. Shows like this are gaining in popularity and I must admit to watching at least one episode of Finding Bigfoot; which I think should be called, “Looking for Bigfoot” as they never seem to find him. Incidentally, I think I ruined the show for Ethan when I said, “You know, if Bigfoot was actually found, it would be on the news and not revealed on Animal Planet many months after the discovery.” Still, it’s entertaining to watch grown adults wandering around in the woods at night scaring each other.
Nevertheless, I think the Spirit of St. Nicholas, which is akin to the spirit of giving, is alive and present. This spirit, however, is not easily captured on camera. Maybe that’s by design because we enter this Christmas season by faith not by sight. Recently, a parishioner shared a story with me about the spirit of giving that he wants shared. He was at a grocery store and was purchasing a large amount of food for the holidays. The customer next to him said, “I’d like to purchase your groceries.” Preparing for a sales pitch or some sort of fraudulent act, our parishioner politely declined. The customer continued talking with him and said, again, that he’d like to buy his groceries. After thinking about it, our parishioner took the stranger up on his offer. I think, frankly, it was an act of the Holy Spirit for him to accept the gift because he’s not one to be easily convinced. He and his wife are quite generous but perhaps hesitant to receive from others. The grocery bill came to around $219. The kind stranger reached into his well-worn wallet and pulled out all the money he had. It came to $200. He asked our parishioner if he could cover the remaining $19 and change. After the exchange, our parishioner asked the stranger what he could do for him. The only request was for prayers. At our 8 am service, we prayed, and prayed earnestly, for this kind stranger. Was this stranger Santa? Or, was this the spirit of giving as shown in the life of St. Nicholas? If you read the story above closely, you’ll notice I prefaced it with the fact that our parishioner wanted it shared. Reading between the lines, one could assume that I’ve been told stories of the spirit of giving that are not to be shared. I can’t even tell you if that is a correct assumption, but I think your heart knows. Despite commercialization and television dramatization, this is a magical season. There are many wonders that occur and some of them come in forms of gifts. Whether it is a generous stranger that offers to pay for groceries, or a kind stranger that says words of hope to someone hospitalized over Christmas, or a mysterious wrapped package found under the tree, the spirit of giving is alive and well. May the Giving Spirit bless you and your family this Christmas season, -Fr. Marshall I had a Kingdom of God moment on Sunday. These “Kingdom” moments happen when I see something that I’d only expect to see in heaven. A lot happened on Sunday so it’d be easy to point at a variety of things that would be a Kingdom moment. We had a well-attended Christmas brunch, we had one service for the entire congregation, we had Morning Prayer with Holy Communion, and we even had music from the school Chapel service. Any one of those things could be a Kingdom moment. For as great and amazing as it all was, my Kingdom moment was seeing Hector Vasquez sitting with Wilma Hunter. Although this might seem trivial to some, for me it was a big deal.
If you attend our 8 am service, you probably know Hector. He attends faithfully with his lovely wife, June; and their daughter-in-law, Celia, is one of our lectors. He always has a smile and a warm handshake. For those that attend our 10 am service, you probably know Wilma Hunter. She arrives early, helps out in the Narthex with bulletins, sits near the front of the church, and always wears a beautiful hat. I love both Hector and Wilma. They are important people to me personally and to the congregation as a whole. As far as I know, they do not know each other. But, to my surprise on Sunday morning, there they were sitting side by side. I never thought I’d see them together in worship until we are all at worship in God’s heavenly kingdom. Maybe this is one of the great things about the Christmas season – gathering friends and family that are not often (or ever) in the same room. One of my favorite Christmas day experiences was when both of my grandmothers were together. Usually we’d split our time, or the holidays, between the two of them, but for one grand Christmas, they were together. As we enter the fourth Sunday of Advent with anxious preparations for Christmas, let’s remember that one special element of this season is about gathering together. After all, without gathering of friends and family together, December 25 could be just another date on the calendar. -Fr. Marshall Our manger scene is coming to life. Each week new pieces are added. Two weeks ago, when the scene went up, we had a problem. I walked into the greening of the church and heard a voice crying out, “The Baby Jesus is missing!” (So much for making straight the path and creating a wide highway for the coming of our Lord.) Questions came from all corners – where could he be, where did he go, who packed him up, who would want to take him, what are we going to do? Unlike the grumpy Santa Claus in “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” who was quick to cancel Christmas because of one bad weather report, I was not ready to cancel Christmas because we couldn’t find an eight inch statue. I knew the Holy Spirit would light our way (and I have a connection in Tijuana who could pick up a replacement in a pinch). Still, some time went by without finding him and I was getting a little worried.
This is not the first time Jesus has been lost. King Herod went looking for him and came up empty. Angry residents of Jesus’ hometown wanted to throw Jesus off a cliff for proclaiming a lesson from Isaiah that we are reading this Sunday. Jesus eluded them by disappearing into the crowd. Two unaware disciples on the road to Emmaus walked and talked with the resurrected Christ. When they realized it was Him, Jesus vanished. And even his mother lost him, twice. Mary and Joseph brought Jesus to Jerusalem when he was twelve years old. After days of celebration in the Holy City, the caravan back to Nazareth started without Jesus. By evening, Mary and Joseph realized Jesus was seriously missing so they headed back up the mountain to Jerusalem until they finally found him in the Temple teaching religious leaders. The second time mother Mary went to the tomb and found it empty. But then the Newly Resurrected appeared and gave her joy and comfort. I talked with someone recently who has lost a sense of Christ, the Holy One. I thought about the missing statue and said Jesus has funny ways of disappearing and reappearing. It is the Incarnate One who called us to seek, knock, search and find. Maybe our spiritual journey looks like a holy game of hide and seek – sometimes it’s Jesus who hides and calls us to seek him out and other times it’s us who’ve tried to hide from him. The voice of the Great Shepherd, never discouraged, calls, “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Hidden behind our manger are cardboard boxes. The first item packed every year is the baby Jesus and everything else is packed on top. After searching every nook and cranny in the church, hall and office, like Mary and Joseph looking for Jesus, the seekers returned to the Nave and the box that holds Jesus. At the very bottom, swaddled in protective wrapping, was the missing statue. What was lost had been found! Maybe this is the point of Advent. After searching all over for the meaning of Christmas, perhaps we are called to return to the origin of it all, the simple truth of a family huddling together around a new born child, while stars, angels, and shepherd cried out with joy for the new born King. May you find what has been lost as you search deep inside your spiritual self and find a child, whose name is Wonderful, Counsellor, the Mighty God, the everlasting Father. The Prince of Peace. -Fr. Marshall I have participated in three Safety Commission meetings so far in my stint as a commissioner. I can sum up my experience with this phrase: people like to park in front of their homes. Or, another way to look at it is like this: people don’t like strangers parking in front of their homes.
There are two neighborhoods in Chula Vista that are having large problems with public parking. One of them is across the street from Southwestern College. Residents are fed up with college students trolling their neighborhood for free parking. I heard stories at Wednesday’s meeting about residents who have to carry their groceries for three blocks because of student parking. Another couple has elderly parents that don’t visit because they’d have to walk too far. One resident has a licensed extra car that he plants in front of his home. When he comes home with groceries, he double parks the extra car, unloads his truck, and then plants his car back in front. This “extra” car would be called a “snow car” in North Idaho – a rusted-out junker that is used only when it snows. A snow car prevents the good car from getting bumped in icy conditions and also saves the good car from getting rusted out from salt. In this case, the “snow car” saves a parking space and the owner doesn’t mind when others bump into it when they parallel park. Occasionally at our home in San Marcos, one of the teen-aged friends of our neighbor would park their car in front of our house. Our cars were parked in the garage and along the side of it so we never used the curb parking along our cul-de-sac, anyway. But, I didn’t like it when others did. And, I have to admit, one day when I saw a teenager driving up (more heard the young driver than saw) I quickly parked my car in front of our home. And, since I’m confessing, our next door neighbor had three drivers, five cars, two boats and one 26’ camping trailer. And, none of the cars could fit into their over-stuffed garage. One day, a rare event happened; a spot opened on the street in front of their house so I took it. I felt bad about it but then they parked a boat in front of our house, so I guess we called an unspoken parking entente and never ventured a car in front of each other’s homes again. I wonder what is it about human nature that makes us protective of a public parking space in front of our home? Did native Americans get upset when a neighbor parked a horse in front of their teepee? From the way some residents described the college students who park in front of their homes, there are some similarities – loud sounds, strange smells, and occasional use of the street as a bathroom; but a horse won’t give you the finger if you tell it to leave. What is a good Christian response to this dilemma? How are we to treat a stranger parking in front of our home? When Jesus said to love our neighbors as ourselves, was he including their parked cars? Unfortunately, he probably was. -Fr. Marshall |